Wolfsbane
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: This is Berk. We have axe-throwing, swordfighting and a charming view of the moon rise. The only problems are the monsters. While most people have little things like rats or termites, we have...werewolves. And this is the story of how I, the shy, weak son of Stoick the Vast, became one of them. AU. Requested by a friend.
1. Prologue: Blood in the Snow

Wolfsbane

Prologue: Blood in the Snow

**A/N: Happy Halloween, everybody! My friend, RazzlePazzleDooDot, has been encouraging me to write this story for months - in fact, it was her idea in the first place, and I just kind of added to it a bit. Let it be known, however, that none of the actual writing belongs to her - it belongs to me. However, HTTYD, unfortunately, does not belong to me. If it did, one of my other AUs, To Be Loved the Way You Love Me, just might have been canon xD**

**Well, I hope you all enjoy this fic! I'm doing Nano Wrimo this year, but I'll try to keep this updated as well. **

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><p><em>This is Berk. <em>

_On here, we have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests. You see, while most places have mice or mosquitoes, we have…wolves. _

_And I'm not talking about your average wolves, either. I mean, these things are huge. To be honest, they're closer to the size of dragons than they are their own species, but you can still tell they're wolves. Their cruel, blood-soaked muzzles, unforgiving, sharp teeth and dirty, matted, muddy fur all tell the story. And speaking of stories, the one I'm about to tell you is the story of how I, the shy, weak son of chief Stoick the Vast, became… _

_A monster. _

_It's a story of how a single wolf changed my life, a wolf that some people previously doubted in. Everybody wondered how a creature like that could possibly exist; he was more shadow than true, corporeal being, and he seemed to almost glide everywhere he went, under the silvery evening stars, his paws just an inch or two above the wet grass. Over the years, people nicknamed him 'Night Fury', for he was only ever seen on the blackest of nights and every time, he seemed angrier and angrier. _

_This is the story of when I met the Night Fury for the first time. _

The wolves normally attacked on the full moon, but for some strange reason, they had started attacking more and more frequently, so the terror was no longer just monthly; it could happen at any time. But it always happened at night, especially when the Night Fury struck. Nobody had ever faced down this wolf and lived to tell the tale. He mauled them all to death, his cruel teeth ripping huge chunks of flesh, biting through bone and muscle to get to the blood, which he drank with all the relish and ecstasy of a vampire.

The wolves sickened me. I'm not going to pretend they didn't. I was scared of them. I wanted to stay as far away from them as I possibly could, to be honest. But every time the wolves attacked, I made sure to be out there on the battlefield, hoping to catch one of them, even the bluish-gray Deadly Nadder wolf, or the greenish Gronckle wolf, even if he was slow and stupid and not a very impressive kill.

Because, stronger than fear was the village. Their comments about me rang in my ears long after the terror of the wolves had fled my mind. They called me useless, and they said I would never amount to anything. When my dad wasn't around, Snotlout couldn't get enough of mocking me. And speaking of my dad, I guess he's the reason I went charging off into the battlefield in the first place.

It wasn't just the village, you see. My dad never said anything directly to me – mostly he just kind of shook his head whenever I talked, or scowled at me, like someone had skimped on the meat in his sandwich. But over time, he stopped scowling at me. He just…stopped, entirely. He quit listening to me, he quit looking at me. He quit loving me.

But I knew that if I could do something impressive, something amazing, like capturing the elusive Night Fury and cutting out his heart, then Dad would finally look at me again, and he would love me again. The village would quit saying that I'd never amount to anything. I wasn't useless, but I was getting closer and closer by the day.

So, on the particular night our story starts, a very dark and cold one, for winter was just around the corner, I ignored everyone who told me to just stay inside this time, and I ran out onto the battlefield once again. Wolves were everywhere of course, tearing apart whole huts with just one crash of their mighty paws, killing every Viking they saw with just one gnash of their huge jaws.

I swallowed uncomfortably as I surveyed the scene – there was that bluish-gray wolf, the Nadder, and there was the Gronckle, and the exotic, agile Zippleback that had evaded us for so long. There was the Monstrous Nightmare, and it was the one mostly responsible for all the dead Vikings. I didn't have a weapon; I hadn't bothered to grab one, so excited and anxious was I about this fresh attack. I disregarded all the wolves currently attacking the village; my eyes sought only one, the black one, neither living nor dead.

But he found me first.

I heard a soft growling from somewhere behind me, and my heart jumped into my throat. Turning slowly on the spot, I locked eyes with the wolf that I had sought so vigorously. Its eyes – I had never really seen its eyes before. They were bright, forest green, and seemed to seethe with the guilt and rage of centuries. For just a moment, I saw such emotion, such wrath in those eyes that I understood why people had tacked 'fury' onto his name.

The wolf regarded me for a moment before closing his teeth around my wrist and dragging me downward, onto the cold grass, wet from melting snow. I shivered as the wetness soaked into my clothing, but I was caught in the cruel gaze. The Night Fury raced forward and pinned me down onto the ground, glaring into my eyes. It knelt down, the thick tail brushing over my legs. I stared at it, petrified as it took my hand in those sharp teeth, those powerful jaws, and I shuddered, wishing I could run, but knowing the Night Fury was far too heavy for me to throw off.

It closed its teeth around my hand, and pain exploded in the skin, traveling up the arm and turning it all numb. I gave a sharp cry, trying to thrust the beast off of my chest, but it was so much stronger than I was. I raised a leg and kneed it in the furry abdomen, rising to my feet the instant it released me. I stumbled away blindly, and though I wasn't running very fast, the Night Fury didn't try to keep pace with me, or bite me again. It let me get away.

I looked down at the ground for just a second as I ran, and I saw a small trail of tiny blood droplets, falling into the pure white snow as I ran, cradling my hand, leaving that trail like a path in the snow.

I couldn't understand why, but I kept running, grateful for every second that I lasted, because I was sure that it would be after me at any second. I finally made it back to the real battle, but I was so distracted that I nearly stepped right in front of one of the wolves, before I was jerked back by an unseen hand on my collar.

My father glared at me, his gray eyes hard and cold with anger. "What are you doing out again? Get inside!"

He dropped me back onto the grass, but I could barely make sense of anything that he'd just said to me. I stumbled into the forge blindly, shedding my vest and shaking slightly from my encounter with that terrible beast. For as long as I lived, I would never forget the terrible anger in those eyes – an anger borne of fear, and lost hope, and the frustration of never being completely understood.

You see, I could understand those things, because I'd felt them, too. I looked down at the bite on my hand, the teeth marks burning bright red against my pale skin. I would never forget this burning, numbing pain, or the sight of those scarlet blood droplets in the snow.


	2. Chapter 1: The Bite

Wolfsbane

Chapter 1: The Bite

**A/N: Yeah, like I said in the prologue, I'm doing Nano Wrimo, so this kind of fell by the wayside. But it's not over or discontinued or anything, it's just gonna be a bit of time between updates is all. And wow, 27 favorites, 7 reviews and 36 follows just for the prologue? :D wow. **

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><p>Yeah, yeah. I know. I was stupid for not saying anything about the bite, right? Well, maybe I was, but whenever I mentioned being hurt, everyone just glared or gave me the evil eye, even sometimes my dad. So I learned to shut up and just take care of things myself. It was quicker, easier and less embarrassing that way if I handled it. So, I figured I'd put in just enough work at the forge, duck out and get back to my house, wrap the injury and wait until the next attack. They were becoming so frequent nowadays that I wouldn't be surprised if there was one tomorrow.<p>

But in the meantime, while I wasn't out there on the battlefield trying to prove myself, I'd try to survive. Maybe you think I'm being dramatic, so to give you a clue as to what I mean, this is what happened when the attack was over and I walked out of the forge: Phlegma the Fierce rolled her eyes, Mulch the fisherman scowled and folded his arms, and my dad's gray eyes landed on me for an instant before flicking away again. I looked away from him, back down at the grass. It was easier to stare at the individual blades of green than see anger or disappointment in his eyes.

I passed by Snotlout and his gang on my way back to the house, and of course he started laughing at me. I used to cry a lot whenever he did something to me, but lately I'd become so used to it that it hardly mattered anymore.

"Thank Thor you finally got it into your head to stay inside and leave the fighting to the more capable Vikings." That was the first thing he said, but I could tell he was gearing up for some other stuff. He reached out like he was going to punch me, and I sidestepped easily – he wasn't putting a lot of effort into it, to be honest, otherwise he probably would've given me an impressive bruise.

"Yeah, sure," I mumbled sarcastically, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground while Snotlout's friends, the twins, giggled like idiots. If I could just make it past them and up to the house, I could get home before my dad and avoid an awkward conversation with him altogether.

Snotlout frowned, and I knew why – he wanted a response, a reaction, and I wasn't giving him one. "Listen, Useless," he snapped, planting himself in my path so I had to look up at him, "don't start getting all cocky now. You're still our little screw-up."

"I know," I told him. Maybe you think I was being dramatic, and maybe he thought that I was humoring him, but to be honest, I was only stating the truth. I was a screw-up. I always would be. Nearly every time I went outside during the attacks, I managed to hurt the village and myself in some way – not that anybody really cared if I hurt myself, of course, but still.

"What's wrong with you?" Snotlout demanded, confused and frustrated.

"Everything," I replied. The truth was, I was just so tired of dealing with his shit. He had been giving me too much for too long, and I was tired of giving him a response every time he wanted one. I waited patiently for him to step aside.

He gave me a shove to display his dominance, I presumed, and then swept away with his idiotic friends. I glared after him, rolling my eyes as I picked myself up off the ground. Brushing myself off and still scowling after them, I managed to make it to my feet, but I was so distracted that I walked – and I mean, literally walked right into – Astrid Hofferson.

But wait. Slow down. You don't know who Astrid Hofferson is, do you? Let me paint a picture in your mind.

She's beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed, tough but delicate-looking, handy with an axe, Viking-ly yet graceful. And, uh, did I mention out of my league? Basically, she is the peak of perfection and as I was the lowest form of imperfection, the idea that she would ever even look at me was essentially laughable.

Astrid scowled when she saw it was me. "Watch where you're going," she growled, but as I started to blush and stammer out apologies, she glanced down. Surprisingly, her angry demeanor faded. She slipped her axe into the hold at her waist and grabbed my stinging hand in her warm ones. "Hiccup, wait."

Butterflies started in my stomach, mostly because I didn't even know Astrid knew my name until right then, and she was actually touching me willingly.

"Where did this come from?" Her blue eyes were serious and intent when they focused on me.

"One of the wolves," I replied, before realizing how weak it sounded.

Instead of calling me weak, however, Astrid just looked kind of shocked. "They bit you? I didn't know the wolves did that."

I lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Yeah, neither did I." But really, who cared about a stupid bite on my hand when _Astrid Hofferson was touching me?!_

"You'd better look after that," she released my hand and spoke firmly. "Who knows what's in that bite?"

"I….um….I was actually going home to do that. Right now," I managed to stammer, and Astrid smiled. Astrid actually smiled at me.

"Good thinking. I'll see you later then, I guess?" She slid her axe back into her hand and started on her way, but my heart was pounding so hard that I barely made it up the steps to the porch. I slipped inside the house, replaying her words in my head, over and over again.

That 'I'll see you later'… had she said that because she actually wanted to see me later? The idea was too good to be true. Still…I managed to make it through an entire conversation with her without embarrassing myself once, and that ought to count for something.

So, grinning from ear to ear, I walked into the kitchen to find the ointments and bandages.


	3. Chapter 2: Lost One

Wolfsbane

Chapter 2: Lost One

**A/N: This chapterrrr is bleh. It doesn't solve anything and I hate it, but I guess the next chapter will be better. I could rewrite, but I am NOT re-explaining Wolf Training to the reader. **

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><p>I cleaned the bite with the first ointment my fingers touched, which turned out to be Runny Seagull Poo, or something along those lines. I ended up scrubbing the ointment off again with soap and water, but by that point, the bite was itching and burning so badly, and it had turned such a bright red that I just put some gauze on it before going upstairs and collapsing in bed. I waited for my brain to unconsciously realize that the bite was no longer being irritated, and for the pain to go away, but it never did. I rolled over on my side, listening to the wolves howling outside my window. I'd listened to their songs for years, and they always sounded sort of…sad. Forlorn. Like they were mourning somebody lost, somebody they knew they could never get back.<p>

Their howls sounded different this time. Less like mourning, and more like celebrating. Like their lost one had returned. But that was crazy, I told myself, casting my pillow aside onto the floor – it wasn't as comfortable as I remembered – and closing my eyes against their noise. The wolves didn't have feelings. They had taken my mother from me, and they'd given me a nasty bite. They destroyed our home on a regular basis, and they were completely without conscience. Whatever they were celebrating, it was not anything good. I fell asleep.

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><p>The first thing I was aware of was the bite. It hadn't stopped itching, and now the sensation was worse than ever. With a groan, I released all hope of further sleep, undid the gauze and gasped when I saw what lay beneath.<p>

The skin was raw and bright pink, red in places, and shiny, like it had been burned. Pus leaked out from where the teeth had gone in, and discoloration was welling up near it. Blood dotted the injury, like I'd bled in my sleep, and my whole hand was hot to the touch. I pressed my fingers to the back of my hand slowly, feeling heat seeping out, and pus quickly following, a bit actually trickling out onto my blanket. I kicked the covers off and walked downstairs, thinking to myself that maybe I'd try something, another ointment, to see if that helped the bite.

However, when I arrived downstairs and sat down at the kitchen table, I was hit with an unwelcome surprise: Dad hadn't yet left. He was still sitting at the kitchen table, kind of poking absently at his food, and when I sat down, he looked up, straightened and spoke. "Hiccup."

"Dad." I nodded at him in recognition.

He looked annoyed, but let it slide. "I need to speak with you, son."

_Shit. _

Did somebody tell him that I ran out during the attack again? No, nobody really noticed me. Was he going to harp on me about getting bitten? No, nobody noticed that, either. I resigned myself to going in blind, and scooted closer to the table. "Alright."

"I've made a decision, and I think you'll like it," he started, "you'll start your training tomorrow morning."

"What…what training?"

Dad blinked at me, like he thought I was being stupid on purpose, but honestly – what training? Nothing was coming to me at the moment. "Wolf Training, Hiccup," he replied, kind of slowly, like he thought I was being sarcastic when I asked. "You know, for the wolves?"

"Oh!" My elbows slipped off the table and I leaned back in surprise, trying to take it in. "Right…"

Wolf Training. It had been going on for years, and it never really helped, but everyone in the village liked to pretend it did, so it kept going on. The thing about Wolf Training was that, my dad had an idea, you see, that the wolves lived somewhere in the forest, in a pack, and that they had a spot where they usually stayed when they weren't attacking us. But because the adults were so busy defending the village against the attacks and everything and couldn't leave in the middle of one, they started sending teenagers into the forest to scope out the scene and report back. So far, nobody had found the place where the wolves generally lived, but it wasn't from lack of trying. There just wasn't any luck yet.

But my dad wasn't one for giving up, and he insisted that we would find where they lived. But before you could join in on the team, the adults decided to make the teenagers undergo a series of rigorous tests referred to as "Wolf Training". Most of them were fairly safe experiences, like reading the book on wolves ("everything we know about every wolf we know of", Gobber said) or answering simple questions that your teacher (Gobber) fired off at you in the middle of class, right when you weren't expecting it. But the final exam was the scariest part. For the final exam, you were each given a chance to take down a captive wolf – whoever killed it was considered the leader of their class, and was allowed to lead the expedition into the woods.

And my dad thought I was pleased by this idea? No! Oh, hell, no. My opinion of the wolves had not changed: they were terrifying creatures, and I wanted to stay away from them. I knew that I would keep going out during attacks, and keep trying to take one of them down, but for some reason, the idea of looking for their home was a lot scarier. But I knew that saying so would not only do no good, it would also make me look weak. And I wasn't going to look weak in front of my dad.

So I straightened my back and tried to smile for him. "That's, uh, that's…great, Dad. Thanks for…thanks for signing me up."

He frowned, obviously sensing my lack of enthusiasm. Well, excuse me for not wanting to hunt the creatures that regularly attack my home, but I was trying, here. "Train hard," he ordered, pushing back from the table, leaving his uneaten plate of food. "I need to go help clean up the mess those beasts left."

"Okay." I nodded at him, watching as he left the room, walking out of the house and back out of my life, as he's been doing for years now. I pushed my own chair back from the table, examining the oozing injury on the back of my hand. If I was going into Wolf Training tomorrow, I hoped that faded before then. I didn't want to be the example of what not to do.

I followed the path my dad had taken out of the house, but I went a different way, going instead towards the forge, the smell of ash and smoke hitting my nose before I was even in the door. I heaved a deep sigh, shutting the large wooden door behind me and preparing to get to work.


	4. Chapter 3: The Eyes

Wolfsbane

Chapter 3: The Eyes

**A/N: I like this chapter, but it's a little short. What do you guys think? Please review!**

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><p>"Welcome to Wolf Training!" Gobber greeted me cheerfully when I walked into the Great Hall, which was almost completely empty except for a long table in the middle by the fire pit, where all the other teenagers who'd signed up for this were sitting, too. He gestured for me to take the seat on the end, next to Fishlegs. Astrid offered me a quick, tense smile, but pretty soon she was looking back at Gobber. I looked up at him too as he shoved a leather bound book at us, the Wolf Book. Fishlegs gave an excited gasp.<p>

"I've read this like, seven times!" He tapped the cover with his finger. "There's this one wolf that can kill you with its breath!"

"Yeah, and you can kill me with yours," Snotlout chipped in.

Fishlegs flushed, and Gobber clucked disapprovingly. "None of that, Snotlout. You're here to learn, not make jokes."

Unable to believe that Gobber, king of ill-timed smart remarks, had just said that, I just stared at him for a second, but he kept looking at Snotlout.

Gobber started speaking again, though he kept an eye on Snotlout after that. I mostly zoned out through the whole class, which I know was rude and wrong and everything, but I hadn't even signed up for this. I'd never showed any interest in this. Astrid shot me a look when Gobber brought up wolf bites, but all he said was, "And nobody really knows what happens when you get bitten by a wolf, so just try to stay out of the way of their teeth, okay?"

"That's really informative," I mumbled to myself, looking down at the Wolf Book. It was still lying in the middle of the table, but not for long. Gobber reached over and opened it.

"What is the one defining characteristic of the Gronckle? Anyone?" He flipped to a random page in the book as he spoke, and both Astrid and Fishlegs raised their hands.

"Their tails are thick," Fishlegs gabbled when Gobber called on him, "and can sometimes be used as a weapon in combat. Their fur is sometimes three feet thick in places, and the skin underneath is like armor."

Gobber nodded approvingly. "Well done, Fishlegs."

Astrid looked slightly disappointed, putting her hand down again.

Gobber asked questions about every breed that attacked, except the Night Fury. The only one I could answer questions about, because I had seen one, up close and personal. The thought, the memory, still made me shudder. That wolf was scary.

Gobber closed the book and set it back down on the table. "Same time, same place tomorrow. Class dismissed."

Wow. I blinked. That was actually…easy. So long as I didn't make eye contact, Gobber didn't call me, and Astrid and Fishlegs handled everything while Ruffnut, Tuffnut and Snotlout made obnoxious noises in the background. All I had to do was pretend to be invisible, and nobody even looked at me.

Even though Gobber had dismissed the class, the other teens still hung around to talk, grabbing food and bringing it back to the table, tearing into chicken with their teeth and exchanging stories and anecdotes.

"I hope I get some serious bites," Tuffnut confided to us as he ate a fish on a stick, pushing the book away to make room for his food.

I shuddered. "No, you don't."

They ignored me.

"I'm hoping for some mauling," Ruffnut said. "Like, on my shoulder, or lower back."

"Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it," Astrid joked.

"Yeah, no kidding, right?" I mumbled, looking down at the table. "Pain. Love it."

Even though the others ignored me, Astrid laughed a little. I pushed my chair back from the table and left the Hall. Since I was considered temporarily relieved of my apprentice duties while Wolf Training was going on, I had nowhere to go but home. I was pulling out my sketchbook and halfway into the living room when it happened. I looked up and my eyes met the shield in the corner. It was one of my dad's prize shields, because unlike most Viking shields, it wasn't made out of wood. It was made out of some kind of reflective material, so you could see yourself when you looked in it. My dad never used it in battle, because it wouldn't hold up, but he kept it in the living room.

I looked up and saw the shield, and for a second I didn't think anything of myself. Wild red hair, check. Sketchbook, check. Huge green eyes…no. Don't check that. My eyes were the only part of my appearance I honestly liked, because they came from my mother. But when I looked at them in the shield, they were red. I mean, bright red, and not just the irises, but the whole eye. Even the whites had gone bright red, but my vision wasn't impaired at all. I blinked, and the redness vanished from my eyes.

It must, I thought to myself, have been a trick of the light.


	5. Chapter 4: Newborn

Wolfsbane

Chapter 4: Newborn

**A/N: So, I was kind of thinking about changing the title of this story. I named it Wolfsbane originally because I didn't have a good title, and I just wanted to get it up, and Wolfsbane worked for the moment. But I was listening to Within Temptation's "A Demon's Fate" today, and it struck me that the song really matches this story, so I was thinking of renaming the story "Heaven in this Hell". I could also rename it just the title of the song, but that doesn't really fit to me. I'm not sure what to do, so will you guys please tell me what you think of the idea of changing the title? Oh, and tell me what you think of the chapter, too! Please. **

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><p>The next day was surreal. The back of my hand wasn't hurting at all when I awoke, and I felt…good. Better than I could ever remember feeling, anyway. I felt like I could move a mountain, which even Vikings didn't generally try to do. Still, I felt certain that whatever obstacle got tossed in my way today, I'd be able to overcome it. I threw off my blankets and ran downstairs, surprised when I arrived at the bottom and found that I wasn't even out of breath. Generally, even a light jog could rob me of energy in minutes.<p>

I ate quickly – I was hungrier than I could ever remember being, too, and I was craving meat for some reason, but I ate eggs and bacon like an ordinary person – and looked out the window at the beautiful morning. The sky was watery, pale blue, and the sun was pouring brilliant rays down on the island. It was a great day to be alive.

I ran my fingers through my hair, considering checking my reflection in the shield, but deciding against it. The only thing that could bother me today was another trick of the light like the one from yesterday, so I was eager not to repeat the experience. To add to the overall weirdness of the day, I had never really been a fast runner. Furthermore, I had never, ever been physically fit in my life. I mean, sure, I was small and skinny, but just because I didn't have any excess meat on my bones didn't automatically mean I was in shape. I wasn't fast or agile or athletic in any way whatsoever.

But I ran, all the way from my house on the hill to the Great Hall in the village square, as fast as I could ever remember going in my life. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, but it maintained the strong, steady rhythm. Normally, my heart beat fast and sporadic whenever I did anything physical, but it was just the same as it always was. It felt great, too. I had never known running could be so nice.

I slowed when I reached the Great Hall, opening one of the double doors and easing inside. Those doors had always been hard for me to open – they were just so heavy, and thick – but they came away easily today. Another weird thing. I stepped inside. The table we had sat at yesterday was empty, and only Gobber was standing near it. I could see the Wolf Book open on the table, even from this distance.

A few people who'd had a late start to their day were moseying out of the Hall to make way for the Wolf Training crowd, and so I ignored them, hurrying over to Gobber.

"Hi," I beamed at him, taking my seat from yesterday and pulling the Wolf Book closer to me. I hadn't gotten a chance to study it yesterday, and I was pretty sure I couldn't get away with just avoiding Gobber's eye today.

The blacksmith gave me an odd look. "Aren't we chipper today? What happened, did Astrid look in your general direction or something?"

A faint blush tainted my cheeks – seriously, how did Gobber even know I liked her? I kept it a secret! – but I refused to let him sidetrack me. "No, that's not what happened. I just feel good today. Optimistic."

He looked at me again. Longer this time. "Are you…feeling okay today, Hiccup?"

"Yeah!" I smiled. "I'm feeling great, actually!"

I glanced down at the page of the book Gobber had flipped to, mostly to avoid him staring at me any more, and I was surprised to find the section was on newborn wolves.

_Newborn wolves tend to be eccentric, irrational creatures. They are generally very happy throughout their childhood, and they spend a lot of their time running. They are exceptionally athletic creatures, as far as we understand, and they can outrun even an adult Viking. _

The sound of the Great Hall door opening distracted me from reading the rest, but I became uncomfortably aware, as I looked around to see who had arrived, that Gobber was still staring at me. His mouth was drawn down at the corners, obviously curious about my sudden change. I wasn't _always_ in a bad mood, was I?

Fishlegs slid into the seat beside mine, perking up immediately when he saw Snotlout wasn't there, and when he saw that I had the book. "Are you reading it? Isn't it good?"

"Yeah, it's really interesting," I replied, taking my hands off of the pages so quickly that I accidentally flipped all the way to the back. Gobber sent me an annoyed look, and I flushed, ducking my head and searching for the section he'd had open again.

"What part were you reading?" Fishlegs asked me excitedly. "The newborn section? Yeah, that's so fascinating! I had no idea wolves even—

The door to the Great Hall opened again, and Fishlegs instantly fell silent. Astrid, Snotlout, and the twins filed in, taking their seats at the table.

I released the book and pushed it over to Fishlegs, letting him study the cover to avoid looking at the twins and Snotlout. Even if Fishlegs was allowed to sit at the same table with them over dinner, I knew that the three others weren't exactly what you'd call his friends.

Fishlegs gratefully took the opportunity to avoid looking at them, and Astrid sent me a quick smile as she took her seat. The third smile from her in three days. I hoped that meant something.

Gobber quickly distracted me by clearing his throat and snatching the book from Fishlegs. He gave me kind of a glare when he had to search for the section on newborns again, but I offered him an apologetic shrug. How was I to know he wanted to keep it on that page?

"Right. Here we are." He set the open book back down on the table in front of us. "Now, chances are, you guys are going to encounter a lot of newborn wolves when you locate their home in the forest, so you'll need to be prepared for whatever you might see there. Newborn wolves tend to be irrational and eccentric," he tapped the book as he quoted it, "but that's just because they haven't yet gotten control of themselves. In a way, that makes them more dangerous than the adult wolves, too. They're also faster than the adults, because they have more energy and spirit. And their eyes tend to change color, because a wolf's genes are not fully decided until the pup is about three years old, so their eye color might be unstable, and their fur tends to darken or lighten as they grow. Newborn wolves also have two sets of teeth, instead of one, like adults, so watch out for that. Their claws are blunter, though, thank Thor for that."

I leaned a little closer to the book to read these facts for myself as Gobber recited them. But…it was weird. Everything I read about the newborn wolves reminded me of how I felt today. It said that newborn wolves felt like they were almost superhuman, or superwolf, more like, because they weren't used to all their abilities, unlike adult wolves. I remembered my feeling of being able to tackle anything, my eyes flashing momentarily red, and my unnatural speed while running.

I looked down at the bite on the back of my hand. It felt fine today, but it looked worse than ever. It was still bright pink and raw, but the pus had vanished, to be replaced with brown spots that looked like third-degree burns. It felt rough and scaly, almost crusty to the touch, like I was wearing a glove of dragon skin. I nearly recoiled when I felt it, but Gobber distracted me by yelling, "Class dismissed! Same time tomorrow!"

No. I shook my head. No, it couldn't be. It was too stupid. There was no way that the Night Fury had bitten me and somehow given me the habits and abilities and outlook of a newborn wolf. That would just be too weird. My new and unexplained ability to run without getting out of breath must be something else. Maybe all that work in the forge was finally paying off, and I was now as fit as I'd always wanted to be. I pushed my chair back from the table. I needed to be alone, to think.

I became aware of footsteps behind me as I walked to the door and when I slipped outside, I saw Astrid standing there, breathing in the early morning air. I offered her a small smile, sidestepping quickly to allow her to get ahead of me. She didn't. I wondered why she was still standing there, and considered briefly that maybe she really did want to talk to me, but this idea was even stupider than the Night Fury transporting the abilities of a newborn one, so I quickly dismissed it.

"Hi," I nodded at her, hoping to at least alert her to my presence. For somebody who seemed like she wanted to talk to me, she sure seemed lost in thought now that she had my attention.

"Oh, hi," she came back to earth abruptly, like she was surprised that I was still standing there. So I was right. It was a stupid idea that she would ever want to talk to me, and I blushed, preparing to slink off in shame, but her next few words stopped me. "Sorry about that – I can get a little spacey sometimes. Nothing like you today in class, of course."

"In class?"

"You just kept staring at the table like you were really interested in it – I assumed you were just spacing out."

"Oh, no…I was looking…at the bite…actually." I wasn't about to confess my suspicions to her, but I also didn't want her thinking I was a space cadet.

"Were you?" Astrid descended the last few steps. "Yeah, how's it doing, by the way?"

As if I was going to actually show her. I instinctively placed both hands behind my back, opting for a little smile. "It's okay, actually. It feels a lot better now. And it looks better, too." Dragon skin glove look was better than pus look, I thought. Of course, now I was just gabbling mindlessly to extend the conversation, and that felt stupid, so I shut up.

But the silence seemed to make things more awkward. Astrid just kept standing there, like she was waiting for me to say something. "Going to be a full moon tomorrow night," she offered up at last.

"Oh…cool."

"Cool?" She looked surprised.

"Well, um…full moons are nice. Pretty. They give lots of light."

"They are also the one day of the month in which we can guarantee wolves attacking," she pointed out flatly.

"Oh." I blushed. "Right." I'd thought I was the only one who noticed that pattern. I didn't believe I was any smarter than the other people in the village, but sometimes, I just noticed things they didn't. But whenever I tried to point these things out to them, they just told me to shut up, so that's what I did. I didn't tell them about my observations anymore.

Astrid blew out a breath then, like telling me off was exhausting or something. "Anyway," her voice sounded much lighter when she spoke now. "Talk to you tomorrow then, I guess?"

_Tomorrow. _It seemed like a promise. "Yeah," I nodded. "For sure."


	6. Chapter 5: Why?

Wolfsbane

Chapter 5: Why?

**A/N: Before you guys can say anything along the lines of 'where have you been, you haven't updated in forever, you suck' etc., etc., let me just say that, way back at the beginning of this chapter, I did say that updates for this story would be few and far between sometimes. I just got distracted working on other things, but I'm not going to beat myself up, because unlike with most fics, I'm not even trying to keep up with this one. Working on so many at once is time-consuming, and listening to the demands of readers is, too. Sometimes, I just lack time and motivation. So, now that that's taken care of, onto the next thing. **

**I promise Hiccup will change in the next chapter. Okay. I promise. I really do this time. I promise. **

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><p>I fell asleep quickly that night and awoke much later, while the sky was still dark. My stomach was churning horribly, and I was sweating and shaking violently, unable to keep still. I must have kicked my blankets off in the night, for they were thrown on the floor in a crumpled, careless ball. I rolled over quickly, thinking maybe I'd stumble over to the window and let the cool night air work its magic, but barely had the thought crossed my mind when I fell suddenly back upon the bed, rolled over again, and vomited over the side. Even as the sick poured from my mouth I knew I had to clean it up. My dad wasn't going to wake up anytime soon; he slept so heavily that there was no chance of waking him.<p>

I used to have my mother to look after me when I was sick, but since she'd died, I'd sort of been on my own when it came to illness. Which actually really sucked, because I got sick so easily, unlike most Vikings.

Outside my window, the wolves started howling. I could hear them even from where I was, lying in bed with sick still dripping off my chin and a pool of it on the floor beside my bed. My stomach twisted when I heard them, their sick, celebratory cries echoing in my ears. I sat up slowly, determined not to vomit again, and then stumbled around, looking for a bucket and sponge to clean up the sick.

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><p>I was late for Wolf Training again. I knew that from the moment I woke up, and realized how high the sun was in the sky. For a moment, it didn't concern me; I just rolled over in bed, lounging in the feeling of being, for once, rested. And then I remembered that training was supposed to start earlier today, and I leapt from the bed, running my fingers through my hair to comb it. I was out the door in seconds flat, pulling on my boots and vest as I went, nearly crashing into several people on my way. Everyone I ran into glared at me, but I was so preoccupied, I didn't even care. I just kept racing for the Great Hall, finally arrived, panting, at the double doors, opened them with some difficulty, and slipped inside.<p>

"Now, at this point in time, the chieftain normally lets the—_Hiccup_," Gobber cut himself off in the middle of his speech, giving me a glower that let me know, in no uncertain terms, he didn't appreciate my lateness. "How nice of you to join us, twenty minutes late."

My face heated rapidly; Gobber knew how much I hated it when he called me down like this, that tone of voice, especially in front of other people. I slowly slunk to my seat, keeping my head down so I didn't have to look at anyone, or meet their curious gazes.

"Now, as I was saying," Gobber shifted his gaze from me to the others, but I could still feel his anger, practically burning a hole right through me. "At this point in time, the chieftain normally lets the students in the Wolf Training classes out on special missions, excluding finding the nest. At times, the students in these classes are used for finding certain wolves that are giving us a lot of trouble, and capturing them."

Fishlegs raised his hand, interrupting Gobber. To Gobber's credit, though, when he's mad about something, he doesn't take it out on other people. He wasn't annoyed at all with Fishlegs; he just nodded, signaling the boy could speak.

"What about the Night Fury? Why hasn't Stoick the Vast set any students in the class to finding that wolf?"

"If he wants to send six teenagers on a mission that will end in certain death, I'm sure he'll go right ahead and do that, Fishlegs," Gobber replied, surprisingly cheerfully. "But he doesn't want that. Needs to keep his recruits alive, eh? Now, as I was saying, sometimes, he'll set you to find a wolf that's giving us a lot of trouble, or he'll ask you…"

Gobber's voice trailed off as I examined the bite on the back of my hand again, my mind reeling. Everyone knew that coming face-to-face with a Night Fury and living to tell the tale was unheard of, but I had done it. And suddenly – I don't know why it took this long to click in my brain, but Fishlegs' question really helped it – it seemed strange to me that the Night Fury, the most fearsome wolf ever seen on Berk, had attacked me, pinned me to the ground, and bitten me…then let me run away. Wolves were faster than humans, everyone knew that. That Night Fury would certainly have been faster than a clumsy, stumbling human like me. And yet he hadn't chased after me. He'd just let me go. I blinked in confusion, trying to recall that night, but everything felt fuzzy, or distorted by fear.

Why had the Night Fury let me live? Why had he bitten me, and then released me?

I looked down at the Wolf Book, the Berk crest stamped across the covers. No matter which way you looked at it, it just didn't make any sense. Maybe I'd tasted bad to the wolf, I thought, but there was no way that was true because half the people on the island didn't even bathe more than once every six months, and the Night Fury had eaten plenty of people before me. Why had he let me live?


	7. Chapter 6: The Change

Wolfsbane

Chapter 6: The Change

**A/N: Hi! :D Well, I am finally back. I don't really have much to say. Enjoy, I guess? Please review? Hiccup is such a drama queen in this fic, though, I swear xD **

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><p>I had skipped breakfast in my haste to be out the door, but I ended up paying the price for that when Gobber took a breath and my stomach broke the silence by growling loudly, demanding attention. He'd sent me a kind of annoyed look, letting me know he still wasn't happy with my lateness, but luckily, Snotlout had drawn most of the attention away from me by laughing, and Tuffnut pretended that I was about to faint from hunger or something.<p>

When Wolf Training was over, all I really wanted to do was go somewhere and be alone – I didn't know why, but I just didn't really want to hang out with these people. But in the end, I decided I was too hungry to go that route, so I reluctantly stayed in the Great Hall and grabbed a plate for an early lunch, surprised by how hungry I really was when I started shoving food into my mouth. It was like I just couldn't get enough, even though I'd always had a smaller appetite than most Vikings. I expected one of the others to notice, maybe even comment, but they didn't. It occurred to me as I watched them that that was how regular Vikings ate, and they barely noticed me. Well, that was one thing I didn't have to worry about then. I shrugged my shoulders.

And on top of it all, I felt annoyed and anxious, ready to snap at anyone who came near me, and I couldn't think why.

"I never knew that Stoick sends the trainees on capturing missions," Astrid started the conversation as she dug into the chicken on her plate. "I thought we weren't going to get any real practice in the field until the final exam."

"We might not get any practice," Fishlegs pointed out reasonably. "Gobber said that Stoick only resorts to hunting down a lone wolf like that if it gives the village real trouble, or costs them a lot of food or homes."

Tuffnut brightened. "I hope we get a wolf like that!"

"No, you don't," I told him, grabbing up another piece of food from my plate and eating it clean off my fingers, not even bothering with cutlery.

"Yeah, I do," Tuffnut persisted. "All that destruction – can you imagine?"

"It'd be happening to Berk," I pointed out, struggling to keep my voice even. "We have enough trouble with the wolves we're already dealing with, we don't need a new one, too!" My voice was loud. Really loud. Pounding and aching in my sore head, still throbbing from last night, laying awake vomiting and listening to the wolves howling. I pushed my plate away from my spot, standing up and edging toward the door. "I'm going." I didn't specify where I was going, because honestly, I didn't know. I didn't want to go home, and since Gobber closed down the forge so often to deal with Wolf Training, there was no need for me to be there, either. The forest, maybe?

As I walked away from the table, I heard Snotlout saying maliciously to the others, "Yeah, he's probably just scared he'll one day have to get out there and face a real wolf one day. I saw the Useless during that last attack, he almost wet himself when he came face-to-face with one of them."

Over the years, I had learned to stop crying and stuff whenever Snotlout said things about me. I'd learned that a reaction was what he was looking for, and if I just didn't give him one, all the fun would be gone.

So why was I running back to the table, my voice going louder and louder with every syllable? "Shut up!" I was suddenly aware of everything in the room at that moment, Snotlout's shocked face, Astrid on her way out of her chair, pausing halfway between standing and sitting, as unsure what to do as everyone else was. I was aware of my own hands, tightly fisted and clenched and trembling with the effort it took to hold them back, because I suddenly very much wanted to hit Snotlout, force him to stop saying the things he was.

All I knew from that moment on was a haze of red. "Just shut up! I would like to see you face down a Night Fury, and tell me how you do! I think I did pretty well, in fact! And…and I'm not afraid of coming face-to-face with a real wolf!" I went on, hesitating only slightly. It was a very obvious lie, considering how scared I used to get whenever the attacks occurred. "It's all very well and good for you to make those accusations, though, when you sit on your ass, never going out in the field, just learning about them, and pretending to help!" I stood there for a second longer than I should have, becoming suddenly and uncomfortably aware that Snotlout was staring at me, thunderstruck, completely disbelieving. I'd never spoken to him before like this, yelling and screaming and barely restraining my eager fists from attacking him. I wasn't like the other Vikings, in mindset as much as stature; I didn't have a taste for violence, and it showed. But I almost hoped Snotlout would get up and challenge me, give me an excuse to release this building rage. But he didn't. He just kept sitting there, staring at me, at a complete loss for words.

So I did the next best thing, and I ran, straight out of the Great Hall and into the forest, because that was the one place where I was guaranteed to be alone.

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><p>I should have gone home long before this. I pushed a tree branch out of my way, off my face, kicking my boots against the ground, stirring up some frozen dirt, pulling my vest tighter around me as I walked. I used to walk around in this forest all the time, wandering endlessly down each path, each line of trees, so eager to explore where it all went, finding secrets and surprises everywhere. I was sure, after all my experience in this forest, that I could still find my way home, even in the dark. I needed to. The wolves were attacking soon, after all. But instead I settled on the trunk of a fallen tree, settling myself down to watch the night sky, surprisingly clear. The moon would be rising any minute now, signaling the beginning of the wolves' attack.<p>

I threw an edgy glance around the darkened trees. Where were they, anyway? Taking the scenic route to Berk, or something? They should at least be streaking through this part of the forest by now, positioning themselves for the attack…

My stomach suddenly clenched, pain roiling through me, taking all my attention away from the full moon, now beginning to slowly appear, rising higher and higher in the night sky. I put a hand on my abdomen, figuring it was just the stomach bug I'd suffered last night, feeling certain I wouldn't be able to hold down the food I'd eaten so many hours before. I swallowed, willing the little nourishment I'd eaten to stay down, because I knew I'd feel terribly thirsty after I vomited, and I'd have to trek home in a miserable state. Maybe it was best if I did go home now. Maybe it'd be best if I didn't go out into the attack at all today.

But the moment I stood from the trunk of the fallen tree, I crumpled to the ground, shaking, trembling, my breathing rapid, shallow gasps tearing their violent way out of my throat, my fingers clawing at the dirt, the pain in my stomach reaching an unbearable, stabbing agony. I curled into a ball, feeling bile rising in my throat. I dug a little deeper into the dirt, biting the inside of my lip against the scream that threatened, rebelling against my wish for silence. The pain was spreading now, and it was becoming so hard to think. Everything was gone, disappearing. The trees, floating away from me and then popping in the distance, like a million tiny, bright lights, bright, so bright, too bright, blinding…

I couldn't stop the scream anymore. It burst out of my mouth, ripping up straight from my chest, my gut, pure terror and pain, no words, just sounds and emotions. Just as suddenly as it had started, the pain stopped, leaving me gasping, weak and shaking on the ground, feeling tears threatening in my eyes from the unbelievable agony I had just suffered.

There was one last, slight twinge of pain as the moon rose up fully in the sky. And then I turned.


	8. Chapter 7: Turned

Wolfsbane

Chapter 7: Turned

**A/N: Muhahahha! I am back. With a chapter that feels really evil xD just you wait until chapter eight, people. I know this chapter is confusing and...how shall we say it...blurry, I guess? It's seen through a wolf's eyes, so I wrote how I imagined the change from human to wolf as well as I could. I imagine that it's very painful, as you're literally changing forms, shedding old skin for new. It sounds painful, so I imagine it would be. Anyway, I hope you guys all enjoy this! And 69 reviews wow! :D Thank you all so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Oh, also, I know that Hiccup's thoughts regarding the village are a little confusing, but the main thing to remember is that he doesn't remember anything, in wolf form. He's basically like a newborn baby, so he has no memory of anything, and he's unaware of anything except that he's alive, and the things that happen around him.**

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><p>All at once, I was everything. I was the trees rising up, so much higher than me, and the faceless, impassive moon. I was the clouds, the stars, everything within the night sky. I was the dirt, shifting restlessly under my paws. I was pure instinct, I was adrenaline. I was <em>hunger<em>.

I was the sound of the other wolves howling in the distance, celebrating, overjoyed, welcoming…calling. My heart thumped somewhere in my ribcage, trying to tear its way out. Calling me.

I was pure instinct, and I was running for them. I was speed, everything was passing by in such a blur, yet I knew exactly where it would be if I stopped. I was aware of every rock when it was hundreds of yards away from me, I was aware of my long, lean body, of how good it felt to run. I was aware that I was running through thick, sludgy snow, and that everything about me was pure speed and strength. I was a million things, I was everything and nothing and I was throwing my head back, howling, telling the others I'd be joining them. I was not a human. I was raw and unbridled, savage and animalistic, adrenaline pumping through my veins faster than blood, every nerve standing at attention, positively quivering with anticipation, waiting for something, ready for an order, waiting to die and shatter and explode, waiting to relax and run and tense, ready, for once, to live.

The wolves who had summoned me were somehow familiar, recognition pricking at the back of my mind. There was one who seemed to be the leader, a sleek black creature who was more shadow than wolf, huge green eyes seeming to almost glow in the dark. His jaws, powerful and terrifying, opened, and I could see canines, sharp and thick as a man's hand, poking out of his mouth. Almost unconsciously, I opened my own mouth, wondering if my teeth were so thick. I could not remember anything about myself, my name or my appearance, or even how I had gotten here. Whenever I pushed, I was answered only with blankness. I could not remember anything.

The black wolf did not make a sound, but somehow I got the sense he was speaking to me, and I could hear and understand exactly what he was saying. _Hello. _His voice was gritty, throaty, but welcoming. It was a voice of pure, controlled savagery. _Welcome to our pack. _

I watched him in surprise, his light tail moving slowly back and forth, dusting over the powder beneath our feet. I watched him circling me slowly, his nose pressing into my fur, smelling me. I could have drawn away, growled at him, told him to stop, but I didn't. What did I have to fear? There was nothing this wolf could smell on me that I would be ashamed of, because I was newly born, newly alive, power surging through my veins, my very bones, my whole body alive with…with…_life_, and the pure wonder of living it.

The black wolf interrupted my thoughts with more unspoken words. _Are you in pain still? _

Had I been in pain before? I couldn't quite remember. I was nothing before this, nothing but a mere gray specter, drifting through life goalless, flat and unemotional, everything I saw stilted and colored and shaped and tainted by the wrong eyes, eyes that I was not born with. I was born to have these eyes, to see the forest around me, and life in general, with a pure clarity. I was not born to drift.

Still, the black wolf was waiting for an answer. I shook my head, struggling to form words, as he did.

_It's alright, _he assured me when he noticed me struggling. _You will learn how to generate complete thoughts in time, but for now, reading your emotions and intentions are enough._

I nodded, still feeling a little confused but completely unable to communicate my thoughts.

_Are you hungry? _He was watching me with curious green eyes, edging farther away, seeming to almost slip in and out of the shadows of the trees, fast as lightning and twice as brutal.

The moment he asked the question, I was aware of the gnawing pain, the awful craving for something, I didn't know what. I nodded, unsure if he could pick up on my answer or not without my help.

His canines showed again as he gave an expression that could have been a grin. _Come. We will get you food. _

We ran side-by-side, our colorful coats streaking in between the dark trees, our powerful legs contracting and relaxing as we tried to outstrip each other, pushing against each other, struggling to outdo each other. The black wolf was the only one who did not join in the fun – he slipped in between the trees, disappearing even from our keen sight for minutes at a time before reappearing, always leading the pack. He had no trouble keeping up with us, beating us, but he gave no outward sign that he was aware of his victory. He kept his face impassive, even as he watched me wrestle one of my companions, knocking him to the ground. He was a great, brutish thing, his coat muddy and dirty, hiding the true colors of his yellow-green pelt. He seemed to be slower than the other wolves, but he kept up with the pack pretty well, and the black wolf made sure to slow whenever he noticed the absence of another member.

I was just about to give a howl to declare my victory when the smell hit me. It was a wonderful smell, enticing me, tempting me. It was the smell of fresh meat. I left the green wolf behind on the ground, bounding after the black wolf, nearly outstripping him, but in the same instant that I pulled ahead of him, he cut me off, growling softly, baring his teeth. _I go first. _

I still longed to find the source of the smell, to race ahead of him and forget about the pack behind me, but the regal way he stared at me, as if daring me to challenge him, made me cower in submission. I lowered my head to paws, relaxing my ears. I tried to make my message clear, even without words. I was sorry, I hadn't meant to challenge him. That smell was just so wonderful, and I was so hungry…

He nodded, pleased, and turned, racing far ahead of us. I waited a good ten minutes before following, scared that if I tried, I would outstrip him again. I didn't want to make him mad. I barely knew who I was, and he had welcomed me anyway. You really couldn't get much better than that, so I made sure to stay far behind, despite the fact that I longed to run again.

The trees came to a sudden end, and the moon cast a glowing halo of silvery light down on a tiny village, all these little wooden huts just begging to be invaded… the smell hit me again, making my mouth water. I ached for that enticing scent.

I could feel my claws digging in the dirt, ready to pounce, but the black wolf growled at me again. The message was clear enough. He attacked first, not me. I nodded. I didn't want to get in the way of him and his prey, so I held back until the people started really flooding in, and he'd started on somebody with a stone hammer for a hand and a thick blond mustache. The man kept hitting at the black wolf with the stone hammer, but the creature could not be caught. He slunk in and out of range, biting here and there, drawing blood with those unbelievably sharp canines…

I ran my tongue over my teeth, hesitating. The other wolves were still standing in the woods, waiting for the black wolf's signal. I knew when it came, not because I recognized it, but because the other wolves started running. I raced after them, attacking the first one I saw, even though he smelled like sweat and dirt. He also smelled like fresh meat. I craved that.

I sank my teeth into his leg, wondering at the power of my jaws, and how easily I broke the skin. He was cursing above me, shaking his leg, trying to hit me with the axe he held. I shook my head, digging my teeth in deeper. He tasted wonderful, he was everything I craved, his blood was like life, like the first breath of air after a long time underwater…I was barely aware of the recognition screaming at me to let him go, that I knew him from my specter life. I was ignoring the specter part of me. I was not a specter. I was everything, I was alive. I was running on my savage, wild instincts, paying no mind to the pain ripping its way through my back, the hot blood pouring from my thick fur, the protective armor—

Suddenly, it was over. The wonderful taste of warm, fresh blood was yanked away from me all too soon, and I was being dragged away. Now that I no longer had that taste to distract me, driving me crazy with craving for more, I was aware of just how much pain I was in. I was being jolted a lot, and I didn't need to hear the black wolf's words to know that, though he carried me on his back, he was absolutely furious with me, too. What had I done? I'd waited for the signal. I hadn't attacked before him, and running in front of him had been an honest mistake.

He threw me down into the snow when we were in the forest, far enough away from the village that they wouldn't risk pursuit. He snarled at me, baring his teeth, digging his claws into the snow. _What the hell were you thinking?! _

I looked up at him dazedly, still wild with want. I wanted that taste again. I needed it. But the pain stopped me from trying to run – that, and the look in the black wolf's eyes. He was so angry with me.

_You never do that! Never, ever! _

_Do what? _My own voice ripped its way out of me, leaving me panting and gasping, staring up at him. I pawed the ground nervously as I waited for his answer.

_You don't attack like that, you don't just hold on! You dart in and out, otherwise you'll get hit! _

_I'm hit? _That would explain what the pain was. The taste was finally receding from my mouth, making it easier to remember where I was, and how badly I hurt. I twisted my head as far back as it could go, peeking around to see scarlet blood dripping freely from my fur.

_You idiot! You could have died! If I hadn't been there to save you, what would have happened? _

I winced at the accusation in his tone. I hated the way he called me 'idiot'. Whenever the word was uttered, I felt a tug of recognition, like I had been called that many times in my specter life. A lot of people had called me it, people like…people… I struggled to remember his name, his face, but in the face of the black wolf's anger, I could feel only shame.

I lowered my head to my paws in my submission, giving a low, keening whine. _I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I forgot myself._

The black wolf said nothing. He turned away from me, and it felt like a rejection. I knew then, suddenly, that if he left me here now, abandoned me, nobody else would care enough to come along and take me in.

I wanted to ask him not to leave, to beg him not to, but I stumbled forward on weak, unsteady legs, and his green eyes, so kind when first looking at me, widened in shocked fury. _Get away from me._

_No! _I could practically feel myself screaming, and maybe he heard it, too, because he turned fully away and started to run. Leaving me. Abandoning me.

All at once, agony took hold, and I fell into the snow with a whine of surprise, writhing as the unbearable pain ran its course, the moon all I could see above me, steadily waning, dipping ever lower behind the trees…

And then I was gone.

I was nothing, I was worse than dead, lying there shaking and sobbing in the snow. I was a human again, and I could not make sense of anything, of why I was lying in the snow, or why I was crying so hard. I knew only that I was aware of my own humanity, and how close it felt to slipping away.


	9. Chapter 8: Jumbled

Wolfsbane

Chapter 8: Jumbled

**A/N: Okay, so it's beeeeeeen likeeeeeeee a year? Since I worked on this? Ouch. Well, less than, I think. BUT in my defense, I DID say I won't try to keep up with this story like others. (That excuse is wearing thin...) But I did say that. I really did. So, I guess, I'm sorry it took SO long. Hopefully everyone is still here... (in my defense, this story is totes an October/November fic, it's best to work on it in those months...)**

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><p>It was extremely cold.<p>

This was the first thing I registered, the cold; it firstly stung my skin like tiny, painful needles; it then moved deeper, seeping through flesh and finding bone, settling there with the determined, self-sure manner of a perpetually welcome guest, and it remained, chewing at me, sharp, jagged teeth ripping me into pieces and devouring me…

All at once, I became aware that I was trembling, perhaps from the cold; my teeth chattered and my fingers, curled into tight fists against the unbearable chill, were quivering horribly; my legs trembled, my shoulders shook, and I became aware that my torso was covered only by something thin and green and ragged, maybe a torn shirt or tunic. I couldn't stop shaking. I was so _cold_.

I'd heard stories of people perishing in cold weather, little children who ventured into the woods on frozen nights and never returned; gruesome tales where the icy hand of winter fell upon an unfortunate Viking and pulled him into its inescapable grasp, holding him, closely and lovingly, before opening a mouth with fangs of icicles and a tongue of snow and devouring him, whole and hungrily.

But I had never, ever believed it would happen to me.

I realized then that I was breathing heavily, drawing in great, ragged gasps like a drowning man, or a dying one. Maybe I was dying. I didn't know. I shivered again, there on the cold ground, and I wanted to get up and run, get up and move, only I was trembling and I didn't know if my legs could support me.

It was then that I saw the eyes.

They appeared rather suddenly, and the sight of them chilled me to the bone; at first glance, they were merely tiny, dual points of light shining and gleaming in the trees and behind bushes, strangely beautiful in their inhuman glow, like small stars that had gotten lost and fallen from the sky. But there was something strange about them, something not like the stars; there was something at once perverse and savage about them, something not right. Maybe it was the frightening empty way the eyes gazed at me that made me shiver and huddle closer to the ground, as if for protection or reassurance; maybe it was the hunger in those eyes, the pitiless and brutal way they stared, as if to tell me that it had been a cold, lean winter for them, too, and they were as hungry as I had been when the food ran scarce and the men's hunting brought nothing.

More than ever, then, I wanted to get up. I wanted so badly to race away from here, leave this frightening, dark forest behind, get back to the village with the roaring fires and warm huts, and find or make for myself some semblance of comfort and peace.

More than anything, I wanted to be back home; wanted it so badly I could almost smell the perpetually smoky scent lingering on nearly everything in the village. But it took me a great deal of time to find the strength and courage to move.

Once I had, I felt the pain.

I rose firstly to my knees, and that was when it started; a gentle prickling sensation that was unarguably unpleasant, but I could stand it, it was okay – but then it grew and grew until it was in earnest, and instead of prickling, it was throbbing, an intense, acute agony that seemed to stem somewhere from the vicinity of my left shoulder, on down my back, growing and blossoming like an otherworldly flower until it consumed every inch of me.

I tried to stand and found I couldn't; the pain was too intense, too much. I fell back to my knees, hands braced against hard, frozen ground as I retched, feeling bile rising into my throat; another bolt of unbelievable pain and I fell on the ground again, sobbing now, suddenly so terrified I could barely stand it. I couldn't get up. I couldn't. I couldn't withstand that pain a second time, and I knew better than to even try. What in the name of Odin was I supposed to_ do_?

I thought about this for a minute, resting my palms flat against the ground and as I considered my position, my hands discovered what my eyes could not: I was lying in icy, frigid snow, and I could feel the damp chill eating into my bones once more. If I stayed here, I risked a number of horrible afflictions, such as hypothermia, frostbite, or becoming food for whatever animals lurked in the trees there, gazes cold and feral.

But if I tried to get back to the village, tried to stand or even move, that pain would take hold again. And I wasn't sure if I could stand it, if I could keep from blacking out. I could barely handle the dull, pounding throbs eating into my shoulder now. But if I moved, it would be sharp, heavy and unbearable.

It was then, as I lay thinking, that a dark shape more shadow than wolf darted out of the trees; even from this distance, I could tell exactly what it was and could hear the menacing growl growing in the back of its throat, becoming steadily louder and louder.

I should have gotten up and tried to run, then, but I didn't; the thought of moving at all was agony to me. I merely curled into a ball, wrapping an arm around my knees, and I could swear I heard something ripping, and warm blood trickled down my back, into the snow…was I bleeding? Maybe if I lay very still and quiet, the wolf would see the blood and decide I was dead, or too close to it to make a proper feast. So I closed my eyes and relaxed every muscle I could; I heard the icy, howling wind above me, tossing snowflakes down onto my cheeks, stinging my skin, my trembling back, my small body, and for a few seconds, I didn't even breathe.

But the wolf was not deterred. I closed my eyes, but I could still hear its paws hitting the frozen earth, could hear the soft growls and grunts, and when I chanced to look quickly through my lashes, I saw it had sank almost to its knees, foam spilling from between clenched, impossibly sharp teeth, and it wrenched its lipless, cruel mouth apart to end me.

* * *

><p>I awoke on the outskirts of the village, and I awoke all alone.<p>

My brain moved slowly at first, too slowly; my thoughts were jumbled and nonsensical. When I looked at the trees, they blurred unnervingly in front of my eyes, like tears were clouding my vision.

I turned my gaze away, looking instead to the village; I became aware then that I was on the hilltop between the forest and the first line of huts; it was only ten feet to my destination, ten feet…but looking down at the flickering flames in the village square, I had never felt farther away. I had never felt smaller or more vulnerable, more lonely or abandoned. I moved slowly; in some small corner of my mind, I still recalled the pain from before I had blacked out, and I was prepared for it this time.

When the agony hit this time, ripping through my body like a bolt of lightning, I was ready for it. I didn't cry or scream like I had previously; I crawled forward, my hands white from the cold, my leggings damp with frigid snow, and I bit back a whimper. There was no dignity or grace in my movements; only a shrinking, cringing cowardice, a weakness. In this manner, I stumbled forward a few feet, sliding down the length of the hill, falling once again in the snow.

I knew then that I couldn't do it. I couldn't.

Impossibly far away, the village square was packed with people, figures moving about, the dancing flames throwing shadows on dusty streets, and I could hear the heavy accents, calling out to one another, assessing injuries and other damage, breathing quiet sighs of relief when they realized nobody had died tonight.

The attack must have happened recently, then. How recently? I thought again of the Night Fury in the woods; he was normally leading every attack, normally there every night; it stood to reason that he'd been there tonight as well, but he'd also been in the forest beside me…

Come to think of it, what was I even still doing alive? That was twice now that the wolf had spared me, twice now that I'd been completely defenseless, twice now that he could have easily taken me and hadn't…

When the bellowing of the villagers quieted down to murmurs, I lifted my head from the snow-covered ground, straining my ears to make out their words; it was impossible, I knew, I was much too far from them, I knew…yet somehow, I could hear them, as clearly as if they were standing right beside me. It was hard to tell exactly who said what, and the sentences were unfinished and disjointed, because everyone kept talking over each other.

"…congratulations, Stoick…"

Was Dad down there?

"This isn't a joke!"

"…doesn't matter…"

Hope rose within me at the thought of his presence; it didn't matter that I was injured, that I'd somehow survived the black wolf's presence twice now; suddenly, it didn't matter. Dad would know what to do. He always knew what to do. The only obstacle now was the very real idea that he might see me bleeding in the snow and start rejoicing because his screw-up of a kid might finally kick the bucket.

I had to admit this was a likely course of action, but I forced the thoughts out of my head; I couldn't just stay here forever, could I? By the feel of things, my back had been badly hurt, and I worried that if I stayed in the snow, I wasn't going to see dawn break.

So I rose up on hands and knees once again, because now I had a goal in mind, and I crawled forward a few more paces, my shoulder giving out agonizing protests every few seconds. I fell down in the snow again; I rose up, crawled a little bit more. By this time, I was very near the first line of huts, tantalizingly close. I licked dry lips and swallowed down a dry throat before calling. "Dad?"

I forced myself back up onto my knees, head cocked, prepared for any sound, anything at all. But nobody answered me. Everyone in the village square kept talking, possibly unaware of my presence, possibly determined to ignore me. But I was used to being ignored, used to forcing people to acknowledge me. I was good at it, even. So I crawled a little farther, breaking through the line of huts; a little farther, down one of the village streets. A little farther, through another row of huts. I was very close to the square now. So I opened my lips and tried again. "Dad?"

This time, complete silence fell.

I couldn't even see the outlines of the hulking Vikings anymore; could only see the fire, hear the flames crackling. There was no other noise to be heard. Shakily, I tried to straighten to my feet and found I couldn't; the pain was still too great. "Dad?" Maybe they were disappointed. Maybe they'd noticed my absence, and had gotten their hopes up. Maybe they'd never noticed, and it was just now occurring to them that they hadn't seen Hiccup the Useless running out into battle tonight.

Then Dad appeared suddenly at my side. Grabbing me by the uninjured shoulder, gray eyes wide, he scanned my body for a minute before starting in. "What happened? Where were you?"

"The f-forest," I shivered a little, crumpling again to my knees. I wanted to stand, I didn't want to be weak in front of Dad, but I just couldn't. It hurt too much. "W-wolves…found me there…attacked me…" Wait. That wasn't right. I'd been hurt before the Night Fury had come out from the trees. But that didn't make any sense. Had the wolves injured me before that?

Oh, gods.

Oh, gods.

I couldn't remember.


End file.
